


Wounds, Seen And Unseen

by afteriwake



Series: Stuff Of Improbable Legends [53]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amused Jo, Blood and Injury, Caretaker Jo, Feels, Gen, Injured Dean, Injury, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Jo Feels, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Injuries, One-Sided Attraction, Roleplay Logs, Roommates, Sad Jo, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean gets injured taking care of the Impala, Jo volunteers to take care of the wound instead of taking him to the clinic, and they talk a little bit about home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounds, Seen And Unseen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sideofrawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofrawr/gifts).



> And nearly fifty stories into the series, I _finally_ bring in Dean and Jo. This story was inspired by a prompt from **sideofrawr** of " _patching up a wound_ " from [this list of nonsexual acts of intimacy](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/137274126169/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the). There's some feels and a _ton_ of profanty, so be forewarned.

“Fuck!”

The door to the apartment slammed shut a moment later and Jo looked up from her spot on the couch, only being concerned when she saw Dean wasn’t wearing the shirt he’d gone outside in, and it was wrapped around his arm, and she could see there were telltale red stains on it. She set her magazine down and got up. “What the hell did you do?” she asked, moving over towards him as he headed towards the bathroom.

“The damn jack slipped,” he said, moving quickly. “It sliced the hell out of my arm.”

Her eyes widened. “Shouldn’t we try and get you to the clinic, then?”

“Flesh wound,” he said. “Just need to get it cleaned and butterfly bandaged and crap. No need to trouble the docs.”

“You say that, Dean, but you’re the king of understatement,” she said, moving next to him outside the bathroom door and grabbing his injured arm. She peeled away his shirt and looked at the gash. She’d seen better, to be honest, but she’d seen worse. “You need stitches.”

“Damn it,” he said.

“I can do them,” she said, looking up at him. “You think my momma didn’t teach me how to do that? We ran a hunter bar. We had guys show up with worse wounds than this. And I made damn sure we have a first aid kit here that puts Barts to shame.”

Dean gave her a grin even though she was sure he was in pain and probably didn’t feel like smiling. “I knew there was always a decent set of brains in that head of yours, Harvelle.”

“Yeah, well, shut up and sit down while I get you some booze, because it’s going to hurt like a bitch,” she said with a smirk and a shake of her head. She practically shoved him into the bathroom and then turned around and headed into their kitchen, looking for the good booze. She could always give him the crappy stuff they kept for when they just wanted to unwind, but nah, this called for the “drink the whole bottle so you pass the hell out when I’m done, I’ll call Raven and tell her you’re not coming in tomorrow” good quality stuff. It was a deep wound.

It was weird, that part of her was glad she was putting skills like this to use. This whole place...she felt like she was kind of drifting. This wasn’t the life she’d had for so long and it was just so _hard_ to adjust. Dean was doing better, yeah. He had the job at the mechanic shop and all that, talked to some of the other people there, but even he still woke up blot upright at night remembering crap from home. Demons and deals and monsters and all of that shit. And she could tell even though here was better, it really was, he missed it. Missed Sammy and Bobby just like she missed her mom. So moments like this, where she got to do _something_ kind of similar to home...it was nice. She could pretend for a bit that maybe this was a hunt gone wrong and they were in a crap hotel room instead of him being stupid and them being in their apartment.

She got the bottle of Stagg Jr. and took it to the bathroom. She could handle her liquor, yeah, but this stuff was around 134 proof and she’d managed two shots before she’d said enough was enough. Dean might have half the bottle before he was out like a light. It should _definitely_ do the trick. She’d also grabbed a cork from the last time she had wine, something she was _kind_ of getting a taste for but not really, for him to bite down on if he needed it. She set both items down on the counter next to him and hauled up the kit from under the sink as he picked up the bottle. “The good stuff? Jo, you shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, I hustled for it, figured I’d put it to good use,” she said with a shrug. “Take a swig.”

He nodded, opening it up and taking a drink. He screwed his eyes shut tight as it went down and then set the bottle back down on the counter as she got out what she needed. “I keep forgetting how strong it is.”

“It’s single malt bourbon, what do you expect?” Jo said with a smirk. She fished her lighter out of her pants pocket for sterilizing the needle she was going to use to stitch him back up. She didn’t smoke, but she had it for a nervous habit. “Like I said, Dean, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Thanks for warning me,” he said, holding onto the bottle with his uninjured hand. “Damn if this doesn’t bring back memories, though. I’ve got more scars on my body from crap like this...”

“You mean you screwing up while fixing your baby?” she teased.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

The grin faded a bit. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “It was the life we lead. I mean, I have my own scars. Probably not as many, but...enough.”

Dean set the bottle down and the reached over, tracing a faint one on her arm. “One day you should tell me about them. The ones you got after the last time I saw you back home.”

She looked down at his finger, a curious feeling washing over her. She was used to him caring; he’d shown he did that often enough since they’d been there. Friendly, teasing, joking...she was used to all that. Serious and sad and somber, she was used to that, too. But tender...tender was new. She moved to look at his face and God, part of her wasn’t sure what the hell she wanted to do. She knew it was dangerous giving her heart to Dean Winchester. Had been back home, would be here. Some things would never _ever_ change, no matter if she wanted them to or not. “Maybe I will,” she said with a nod, her voice quiet. “But let’s get you patched up first, okay? Keep drinking to numb the pain.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, lifting his finger up and then picking the bottle up again, taking another swig. She looked back at the kit and then started to really work on getting things set up to get Dean taken care of. Keep drinking to numb the pain...she had the feeling she’d be following her own damn advice tonight.


End file.
